Catching a Cold
by Komikron
Summary: After the end of the Fell Dragon Grima, the world returned to its normal state. However, the world of Ylisse's new Exalt had become incomplete. (Chrom x Avatar)


**Komi:** Hello everyone, here's another FE:A fanfic from yours truly~ I started writing this one a while ago, but only really got the drive to do it after I finished playing my third savefile (on Lunatic orz). The fic has gone through several stages of change; it was first supposed to be an outsider view onto Chrom's behaviour during the time between the Avatar's sacrifice and when Chrom and Lissa find him/her again, focusing on the fact that Chrom and the Avatar are married (it's my OTP for this game okay). Unfortunately this didn't really work out the way I wanted it to and so in the end, I shifted the perspective more onto Chrom himself, what he and his family did and felt during that time. Still, I'm not really satisfied with it, but for some reason it became somewhat popular on tumblr (at least in comparison to the other stuff I upload there, haha) and I was told a few times it's pretty good... even though I personally liked the one I wrote before ("Rain") better...  
Well, judge for yourself.  
Thanks for reading!

PS: most instances of strange paragraphing is 's fault. I mean it.

* * *

The end of the war against the Grimleal was hard to notice for the people at first. Sure, the sunshine seemed brighter again after a short period of what had been a neverending dawn with a blood-red sky, but other than that, changes only happened gradually.  
For a while, the Ylissean army, which still liked to be referred to as the Shepherds, travelled the continent and cleared up the last remaining "monsters", as they were known by the people. Without their master Grima, they lacked any orders or goals, blindly destroying anything in their path until they were freed from their misery. As time went by, attacks on villages became less and less until there were no more reports of them.  
The Shepherds returned to Ylisstol and live went on.

Some of the army's members began training new recruits in various fields.  
Some members returned to their home countries or villages.  
Some members went to travel the world.  
Others built up a new life somewhere unknown to the populace. They started a family, a business, or simply went on with their original profession.

Everything returned to normal, as it seemed, but for Chrom, it never would.  
One half of his bed was empty, one seat at the dinner table was empty. The greater whole had become incomplete.

The Prince was requested to officially take up the title of Exalt. He was hesitant at first, but was assured that he would not be offered it as the successor to his departed sister, but rather as an acknowledgement of his deeds that saved the world.  
He would never be the symbol of peace Emmeryn had achieved to become, of course not. He had plunged his country into a war, had allowed himself to be provoked by Plegia, become a tool in the Grimleal's plans. But maybe he could at least help Ylisse returning to stability now, keep up the peace they had fought for so hard.  
After a while of thinking, Chrom finally accepted.

For the festivities, everyone came together again, but still, the Shepherds were not complete. Yllistol's citizens were quick to notice the absence of the soon-to-be Queen. Some people guessed she took care of Princess Lucina, but it still seemed strange that she would never come out to be at her husband's side.  
Instead, the new Exalt was always seen with two mysterious figures at his side. They both concealed their faces to the public, always hiding behind the shadows that the big hoods of their cloaks casted upon them. They wore the same clothes as the Exalt's wife had done on the battlefield, and soon rumors rose that one of them was indeed the Queen, her face having become disfigured in one way or another during the war.  
Of course, nobody could proof this and no one had an explanation as to the other person's identity and the puzzle remained unsolved.

The new Exalt started to travel.  
He visited small villages and bigger cities within his realm and outside, held speeches. He talked about bonds, trust in one's comrades, how every individual's fate is not scripted from birth, but rather develops over time and with your decisions in life. He helped building up the villages that have been damaged during the war. This was all he could do to keep up her spirit, her words, her legacy.  
When he spoke, people from all around came to see him. They were thankful for the peace he and the Shepherds brought them.  
There too, the cloaked figures followed him, seemed to never leave his side. Nobody knew where they came from. Nobody ever addressed to them and all that was left were guesses.

During these travels, Chrom was repeatedly found in lonely places all on his own. Silent and mostly motionless, he seemed to just stare into the vastness of the countryside. His subordinates would ask him to return to the safety of his royal guards, but he always refused. Even his personal advisory Frederick refrained from addressing this topic after a while.  
Sometimes, the cloaked figures would join him and kept the same silence as he did. On the few occasions his sister, Princess Lissa, had come along for the trip, she would also keep her brother wordless company. There were even times when villagers or soldiers saw the Exalt on a walk through the landscape, mostly alone, but here too, the mysterious strangers accompanied him from time to time and they appeared to talk, although nobody was able to catch their words.  
The royal family's subordinates grew worried about their leader, but no one dared to ask and the reason and purpose of this behavior remained a puzzle to them.

Chrom did not expect anyone to understand. It had been long decided that it was a better idea to not tell the people of the world what had happened to Yilisse's queen, to not stir up anyone. Sure, she might have ended up being worshipped as a martyr, savior of the world, but everyone, especially Chrom, knew that this was not what she would have wanted.  
Besides, this would mean she was to be seen as dead.  
And the Exalt knew she was not dead.  
He might feel incomplete, but he also felt like she was still somewhere, she was not gone from existence. The infant Lucina seemed like she knew her mother was alive, she was surprisingly cheerful and grew well, his grown children from different futures refused to believe she was dead.

Still, it was not easy for Ylisse's king to keep up this optimism.  
Days turned into weeks.  
Weeks turned into months.  
He had travelled the continent far and wide, his comrades had looked everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found. Every time Chrom had to return to Ylisstol for administrative work in the palace, he felt restless.  
The more time passed, the more he witnessed his friends lose their optimism. Especially Morgan seemed to become less and less cheerful with every passing day. He missed his mother greatly.  
Lucina wanted to travel more, to both see more of the peaceful country she had fought for and to search for her mother. She claimed she had come to terms with the situation, her mother had done what had to be done, she had freed the world from the Fell Dragon once for all.  
Chrom, however, knew this was not entirely true. He had heard her at night, when passing the room that had been reserved for her in the palace. Time and again, her cries crept through the walls and along the corridors. He would come to her, embrace her, let her cry into his chest. But he knew that a thousand words of comfort could not bring Lucina's mother back.

By the time Morgan had started to lock himself up in the library all day, the Shepherds had become deeply concerned about the boy's condition. He had expressed a slight doubt about whether he would ever be born into this time at all. Simultaneously, he read every book he could find, took hundreds of pages of notes about what seemed like every single topic humans could ever be concerned about. A good tactician needs to know everything, he said. Only like this, one can respond to whatever may happen on the battlefield or outside, and end up with the best possible results.  
Chrom tried his hardest to give Morgan as much as comfort as Lucina, but it appeared to be a more difficult task. Just as they had started to get accustomed to each other, Morgan remembering little bits of his father step by step, his mother had sacrificed herself right before his eyes and taken up the punishment she had sent upon Grima herself.  
And his father had not been able to do anything to prevent this, had not managed to change her decision to go down with the dragon. When asking Morgan about his thoughts and feelings, the boy would give his father a smile and acknowledge it had been his mother's decision to do this. He, and everybody else, had no choice but life with the outcome and make the best of the future she had managed to start.  
One day, he would be a great tactician himself and help taking care of the world, so that dire times like the ones they had just survived would never happen again. Surely, his father would help him reach this goal, would he?  
Of course he would, the Exalt assured.

As Chrom had managed to invite Morgan and his sister to a short trip through the southern parts of Ylisse, a last family gathering before Lucina would pack up to travel on her own, he noticed how much time had passed by now.  
He should know this, due to his assignments and schedules of exalted duty, but he also felt like he had lost track of how long it actually was since he and his friends had brought peace to the world. The memories were still so clear, they came back to him every time he closed his eyes, played out in his head at almost every possible moments.  
The harsh sounds of combat and the soft rings of laughter, the stinging smell of the battlefield and the sweet scent of faraway lands. Her last smile before she turned her back to him and everyone else and was never seen again. Her goodbye.

Their children had never visited the place of their first meeting before.  
Nobody spoke a word.

Like all those times before, when the three of them took breaks from exalted duty on similar fields, staring into the sunset, sometimes talking, but mostly in silence, hoping for a sign of her existence. Once, Chrom had talked about this spot, had finally revealed the story of his first meeting with the mother of his children to them. It had not been easy for him in view of what had happened just weeks before this event, but he had felt that his children had finally deserved to hear the whole thing, the origin of their lives and the worlds they came from.  
Just like at that time, he remembered this first meeting, felt the sadness sharply stabbing his chest. The air of familiarity he breathed called upon some tears rising in his eyes, but he could not show them now. He had to be strong. For Lucina, for Morgan, for the baby, for Lissa, for his friends, his country. For the world.

Where had Lissa gone to anyway? She had wandered off on her own, Chrom had lost sight of her. Frederick was not on the move yet, so it was not too bad, it seemed. He considered sending Lucina or Morgan for her, to redirect their thoughts from the overwhelming emotions he could see enwrapping the two of them more with each second.  
But he also saw that they both did not seem to hear him anyway, they were lost in their own thoughts, memories, feelings.

Just as he wanted to set off for Lissa himself, he heard her calling out his name.  
The way she did it seemed somewhat familiar.  
Chrom felt a cool breeze touching his skin as he hurried towards his sister.

The same breeze played with her hair while she knelt down before a well-known spot.  
The same breeze danced through layers of purple robes when Chrom saw what was happening.  
He held out his hand. How long had it been since he had last felt this other hand in his?

"You'll catch a cold if you sleep in a place like this."

Behind himself, he could hear several pairs of feet rushing towards the scenery. A collective yelp of surprise.  
Chrom smiled.

"Welcome home."


End file.
